...And the conversation somehow drifted to 'Al Tishali Oti'. Declared one blogger, "If I was the sabra, I wouldn't post so cryptically'. "If I was the sabra", said another, "I wouldn't use so many Hebrew & Yiddish words." Another blogger chimed in, "If I owned 'Al Tishali Oti', I would be more consistent with colors n content." "I wouldn't be sarcastic to commenters", muttered another, darkly. One blogger added not. "I have nothing to say, for 'To know the sabra is to be the sabra'."

Saturday, August 26, 2006

At the end of the hour bus ride from Rechovot to Yerushalayim, the woman sittin near the step I was squished on turned to me with a knowing look on her face, "You're chabad, aren't you?". Surprised and infintely pleased, I answered that yes I am and then I inquired how she had known.

Her: By what you said to that soldier in the beginning of the ride. From that one sentence it was obvious.Me: What'd I say?Her: Don't you remember?

Her: As soon as I heard you say that "L'kol yehudi magiah kavod" (Every Jew is deserving of respect/honor), I knew immediately that you were Chabad. Cuz that's what Chabad stands for- that's what they believe in. That's why they work so hard and travel the whole world. That's why they reach out to every Jew, in any way they can. That's why they have such pure faith and unbelievable chutzpah. Because they truly and honestly believe that each and every Jew, regardless of his religious, political or intellectual stance, deserves respect. Each one of us has a neshama, a part of Hashem and Chabad never forgets that.You Chabdnikim really live 'L'kol Yehudi Magia Kavod'

Sunday, August 20, 2006

9 yr old cousin: "Let's play a game"

sabra: "ok"

9 yr old cousin: "Bo nagid that we each won the lottery. Then we have to tell the other one how we would spend the money. Bseder?"sabra: "Bseder!"9 yr old cousin: "Mazel tov! I heard you won the lottery. (shakes hands seriously). So, what are you going to do with all the money?"

sabra : "Um I will give tons and tons to tzedakah, im yirtzeh hashem. (as much as I'm allowed without being called a shoteh). Then, bli neder, I'll give some to my siblings and to my parents. Then I would buy stuff that I want. And need. Then I would oh I dunno..what would you do?"

9 yr old cousin: "Give half to tzedaka and the rest I would use to hire the most best most expensive teacher for English that after two days I would speak English better than you."

Friday, August 18, 2006

My goosebumped body and soul strongly suggest that you read these two pieces of writing.

One is by Mimi and she writes-"People love asking the question. It's as if Chabad is perfect, but they have the pin, the fine point that's going to pop every Lubavitcher into smithereens. There's always a chin-up ego type of stance in the person asking the question. They're thinking, "yea, how's he gonna answer THIS one?"Why didn't the Rebbe ever go to Israel?".(full post)

And the second I just got by email from Arutz Sheva. They write-"Two soldiers wounded in Lebanon say they have nothing to complain about, they have no regrets that they were wounded protecting the country, and the media should stop concentrating on nonsense."(full article)

I gave the man a coin. He was sitting on the path I was walking on. I walked and continued on until I reached the bus station.The Central Bus Station in the holiest city. I waited on line, sailed through security, entered the building and climbed the steps to the third floor. The top floor. On the way, I passed people and people passed me. A lot happened on the top floor, but more relevantly, I did a lot on the top floor. Mostly while sitting. Sitting on a low metal bench. I thought long thoughts and hard thoughts. I embraced new decisions and turned my back on old ones and then got drunk. Overwhelmed by the ever present and overpowering 'ness' of the scene, I released myself in order to better preserve. (Additionally, I lent my phone to her, smiled at her and bent down to give her the paper). I took the elevator down all the three flights. I exited the central bus station of the holiest city and walked on. I continued on the path until I saw the same man sitting. I gave him another coin.

Those were my thoughts at 7:20pm this afternoon. Not that it should set and not that it should fade. No, let the sun drop already! Let the day end and the eve arrive! Let the fast end and the salvation arrive! Let the golus end and the redemption arrive! Yes, that was exactly what I was thinkin at 7:20 this afternoon, lying on the rooftop of the Choshen on Har Hazeitim.

I've been planning on going to Har Hazeisim, to visit Reizi, for a while now. Today was my chance. Alright so I set out a bit later than I wanted to but no problem-I should still be back at like 4pm or so to help my first-time faster friend with her children. Figured that it would be much cheaper to take a bus as far as I could and only then take a taxi.

So, I took the #1 to the Kotel, got off, asked the Bitachon guy where to go now, he tells me I shoulda gotten off a stop earlier, no matter, I'll walk the 15 minutes, but is it safe? Oh yes. But do you know exactly where to go? Yes yes, everyone said its very easy to find, right by the entrance, new plot, bseder! As he's pointin, I hear someone callin my name, turn around and walla-tis naomi shvitzerit! (shes not really but that was a new slang that she taught me the first time we met, in itamar, and alas the kinui has stuck!) I ask her for more specific directions, she calls her cousin who knows everything cuz he is doing research for Havid, harvad, havhar..o you mean Harvard? yes yes thats it, ok so naomi do you think its safe? Ya no problem. ya? you sure? well ask the mishtara over there to be safe. Anyhow Ben (the American cousin who made aliyah a month ago) will call me back soon and give me more info but meantime I should start walking. Alrighty, off I go, with warnings not to start up with Ben afilu sh'hoo maksim, v'chatich v'al tishkachi-hoo lomed b'Harvid (aich omrim et zeh?) I ask the shotrot (is that how you say it?) and they tell me its fine, its safe, its easy to find and it should take about 15-20 minutes. (i think the mishtara here have an obligatory course in lying) Tov, Im a bit hot n thirsty but no big deal..this should be over soon..and so what that im wearing funny and uncomfortable stuff on my feet-it IS tisha b'av. Nu I'm walkin, Ben calls with news! yay! uh what? you have no idea how to get there? um ok well thanks anyhow bye. Obviously I immediately text naomi that ben and i have a date and hes mazeh chamud and totach. response? shovava. hehe.

Policeman on motorcycle stops and asks me where Im going. Hmm. Why is he nervous? I tell him to Har Hazeitim, he nods, I ask if I'm goin the right way, he nods. And is it safe? He nods. Tov I continue my trek, meet a buncha magavnikim on the way and ask nearly each one if im goin the right way and if its safe (apparently they too are required to attend the abovementioned course).

I start going up, noone bats an eyelash. After a minute or two of climbing uphill, in my silly flipflops, surrounded by cousins (yishmael..) i start to feel not so eh confident, shall we say. My nonfeelings are concretized when some tour leader informs me that it aint so brilliant for a nice jewish lady like me to be surfin around this part of the neighborhood especially with my orange socks (huh? ahh hitnatkut) and zeh.. Hmmm, always one to listen to sensible authority, I turn around and march right back to the bottom. For real. Mr magavnik starts yelling-where you goin? har hazeitim is up there, i told you! Ya genius but you didn't tell me that I would be entering Arabville with no clear signs as to where this 'easily found' plot is. So, are you sure its safe? All 15 magavnikim cry out together -yes tempelit! just go already! No no please, can one of you come with me or something? Cuz I dont really know where to go..Mah? You are scared? Yes, I am and no its not funny so you can stop laughin, thank you. Heh! You should be scared haha there are mechablim (terrorists) all over haha. No seriously, i AM worried, can one of you puhleeeaze escort me?? I guess not...so I return. go back up the mountain. my fate lies in the hands of the Almighty One. nothing new. I'm gonna skip the part about the freaky freakin Arab teenager for two reasons. One Im still traumatized and two, don't wanna scare my mother :).

Anyhow I decide its a good idea for me to let some people know that I'm here...so a few SMSs are sent to some fine fellas across the country..and i continue walking...but not before i get my gingie friend on the line. yo i am NOT walking myself o'er here..fine..lets fast forward about 90 minutes and the situation is as follows: sabra still walkin uphill, still hot and thirsty but even more, still uncomfortable, still scared (ya, tough tough sabra), still tired, still unsure of where to go, still still still. fast foward a bit more, include some false leads, nasty arab children, smelly donkeys and toothy old men, and you got one sad, scared weak sabra. throw in some phone calls to Reizis family members, some dead ends, some zooming fast chareidis, some heat and a dried up mouth and you got one VERY sad, scared and weak sabra. Reizis big sis tells me to forget the whole thing and take a cab back. Argue back and forth (kol hayom telephonim, po shom) and finally i say 'fine'. Ha. Called three Jewish taxi places and they all tell me that thereare no taxis goin to har hazeitim. wow, how incredibly morale-boosting.

Sit on a stone, debatin whether to remove all signs of Jewishness or not (what do i do with the nose?) and see a most welcome sight-a long line of Jewish people! I nearly passed out but the good L-rd guided me to the feet of the guru i mean tour guide who had absolutely zero idea of where this new chelkat chabad is. BUT, he did point out where a shomer was-just a coupla meters away. walla! baruch hashem! ill skip the crying/explaining part and lets move onto where the wonderful shomer offers to take me to where I need. well, the offer was sweet, chaval that he couldnt really help. he tried anyhow. more calls, more radioing, more standing on frightfully narrow ledges, more pointing, more sighing and back we go. "David!" my russian israeli shomer friend calls out to a charming fella clad in bright orange pants and a gray tzanchan tshirt that somehow all tied together w/ his sandals and baseball cap. David joins us as and no, he too does not know where this 'easily found, right by the entrance' kever is. Alrighty then,what now? Why dont you stay by us till the fast is over then go back? Actually thats what I wanted to ask but was too shy. Great, yalla lets go. David, also a shomer, joins us on our trek back to the choshen. the what? the choshen-the place where you first saw us, where we stand. Oh. Right, the choshen.

Get to choshen, climb to the top where there is a beit knesset, lie on floor and wham! a bullet comes flyin thru the window! stam stam..but i thought maybe you wanted some action. i mean kol hakavod for reading this far. Its not as 'exciting' when youre readin it from your living room couch/dorm bed/office chair. airconditioned, that is.

so ya anyhow now its like 530 and that means 2.5 more hours till this darling fast is over. whoever thought of using the word 'fast' to describe this day, certainly was related to the one who decided that headphones are more fun when they keep falling out of your ears. B'chol mikreh, i am glad to finally be indoors with Israeli and Jewish brothers. I lie there, weak and weak and thirsty and weak. But cant fall asleep. I ask Argentenian David/Martin to tell me a story. He complies immediately, quite surprising for sucha mistalbet. The story? "Once upon a time there were 3 piggies" (sabra giggles). "one piggy jumped off the roof" (sabra chuckles) "one piggy went to the kotel" (sabra laughs) and the third piggy got caught by arabs and beaten up till he died. (sabra gasps).."And thats the end of the story." (sabra laughs harder than she did in days)

Fast forward a bit, take some pictures, take a scratch and a hole in my sock, take some relaxin on the swing, take some chizuk, take some impatience and shoin! its 7:20-only 45 minutes until I can drink and find a way to get outta here! only? did i write only? humph, every second was torture..and thats when i looked at the sun and pleaded with it to just DROP ALREADY! amazingly, it actually listened-just not as fast as I'd wished.

Broke my fast on some warm sink water (faucet designer also part of this fast n headphones family) then head downstairs to ask the (replacement) shomer how to leave. Flags down a taxi. White van pulls up and offers its services. (err the driver does,that is) I ask Victor if its safe, he shakes his hands from side to side (kinda like "a chossid, a rosho or ehhh in between?") and shrugs his shoulders. At this point I really dont trust anyone, including mishtara and magav (accordin to my first shomer, the sweet russian, all magavnikim are stupid) so i get in.

To make this incredibly long story a coupla seconds shorter (cuz i MUST get to bed, its 3:48am in Yerushalayim Ir Hakodesh), we ended up goin to the kever w/ some arab dude who has been in charge for 60 years, or so he claims, and there were a few frightening stories on the way but i shant elaborate. after all, my poor mother reads this blog...hehe...But I will write about how utterly rude they were-telling me to hurry up already and "my wife is gonna kill me if i dont get back already" (that of course insured a concerned look on my face with plenty of sympathy....and then a much looooonger time to do what i had to do hehe) but baruch hashem i DID finally get to where I had to! ok so ya bh (after getting ripped off w/ the price) i am safely, securely, happily, comfortably, incredously, deliriously walking on Rechov Yirmiyahu towards Jerusalems Central Bus Station.Hodu L'Hashem Ki Tov, Ki L'olam Chasdo

p.s. if it wasnt so late, i would write about the steps in har hazeitim, mitzpeh rechavam, the kids stickin their tusik out at me when i tried to take a picture, the girls davenin mincha on the roof, waving to the arab girl, tripping and sliding down the hill,

p.p.s. i did NOT appreciate all the rebukes that i got for going myself. o but how was i supposed to know its dangerous and hard to find? well you should ask someone. o but i did. well not just anyone. o i asked israelis and americans, teens and adults. well next time ask ppl who know about safety a little bit better. o its not enough that i asked the security guard from the bus, many policemen as well as border policemen???

p.p.p.s. this, like nearly everything else on my blog (and my life) has not been edited at all. so i apologize for spelling mistakes, unfinished sentences or thoughts, repetitions and the like.see ya in the beis hamikdosh!

pee to the 4th power dot es dot This definitely deserves to be in the BLUE spiral, no? Oh and G-d willing I'm gonna put on some photos soon of this wonderul trip.

What is a sabra?
A sabra is a form of cactus, Opuntia ficus-indica, that grows extensively in Israel.
The fruit of the sabra has a thick peel with a sharp spine and is covered in prickly thorns. Once the rough and deterring exterior is peeled away, however, you will reach the contrasting sweet pulp.
Authentic Israelis are often referred to as "sabras" because they tend to be outwardly tough and coarse, but once you get to know them they really are a soft, sweet and sensitive people.